


On my own terms

by ElderQueen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Thranduil, Dancing, Drunk Sex, Idk what to say, Little bit of angst, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Foreplay, slight abuse, slut!Thranduil, top!Galion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderQueen/pseuds/ElderQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is scorching hot summer in Rivendell and meetings are postponed. What would Thranduil do? Dance, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	On my own terms

**Author's Note:**

> So, it was quite hot outside lately and I have broken my leg. And as I was stuck at home, I realized that my OTP has too little fanfiction and I made this. Hope you will like it.
> 
> I own just the way the words are arranged.
> 
> Story is from Thranduil's POV and I shamelessly stole the name "Kalandero" from Cirque du soleil. I hope they will forgive me.

Valley of Imladris is beautiful, even in the peak of summer, when the air is heavy with heat and scorching hot. Trees are full of emerald-green leaves which barely move despite the soft breeze blowing from the river. Grass is rusting, creating mixture of yellow and green. Even from my place at the head table I can hear water flowing all around.

Summer festivities are usually good thing to attend. Music, tasty wine and delicious food, all to make numerous guests feel as welcome as possible. Heat is almost unbearable, feels like thick blanket coating courtyard and all guests. Earlier it was decided that the council meetings which were the very reason of me being here, were postponed till dinner since it was “too hot to do any serious work”, much to my dislike.

Lively tunes of music and pleasant buzz of conversation however did very little to ease my... whatever it may be. Let us call it pit in the stomach. I was four cups of wine past my limit and although the wine was not as potent as the one from Dorwinion, my head felt all too light. This was as far as I was able to go with feigned patience. I took large gulp from another cup and started drumming my fingertips against surface of the table. Long fingernails created unpleasant, scratching sound against tablecloth. Elrond sitting on my right shot a look at my hand and I sensed slight disapproval. I immediately stopped and finished the wine instead. “ _I would be sick soon enough if I continue this way,”_ I thought dizzily and had my cup refilled again. My body felt pleasantly light and my head spun, but not too wild. Elrond asked whether I am enjoying the festivities, however after a couple of one-syllable answers he gave up.

My cup is refilled again and emptied immediately after. I feel slightly euphoric now and I wonder, what in the name of Valar was in that wine? Or was it the heat? My thoughts were interrupted by change of the music. Kalandero.  My favourite dance.

Without actually realizing, I sat more upright and my eyes searched the room. It did not take too long till my gaze locked with a pair of familiar green-and-brown eyes. Galion's lips curl into strange smile. Maybe I find it strange because my vision is blurring. Sweat? Possibly. Alcohol? Most probably. I feel detached. Nothing feels real anymore, so when Galion mouths invitation, I smile. At least I think I do.

Galion's walk seems confident as he walks to the head table. Certainly more confident than mine would, if I bothered to stand up. Before I know, he is behind my chair, his fingers sliding from my neck to shoulder, not entirely touching but very close. In a second fingers are gone and he clears his throat.  

I turn around, feigning surprise. “Yes?” Galion is smirking. “My king, would you give me an honour of a dance?” Sweet. His tone of voice suggests much more than one dance. I drain my cup ways too quickly, small trickle of wine escapes from corner of my lips. “Of course,” I say and stand up. Sudden change of position and heat (abundance of wine) send my head spinning wildly. It almost looked as if I needed steadying. I probably had more than enough.

Galion's fingers slide down my arm, underneath my palm in not-entirely-appropriate way. No one seems to notice a thing.

Tune is already quickening as we step onto the dance floor.

Some say that Kalandero is not as much of a dance as it is a kind of foreplay, the best way to touch your partner in inappropriate ways in the public without anyone noticing. Others say that it is demonstration of flexibility. Someone is right. I let it up to you to decide, who.

Without an opening position Galion spins me around, my back against his chest (my head is still spinning). I close my eyes and let myself be led by him and the music.

Hands find my waist and slide down to my hips. Knee finds its way between my legs. Between quick steps and closed eyes I hope that Galion knows what he is doing, because I certainly don't. He pulls me closer, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “You've had quite a lot of that wine already, haven't you?” he asks teasingly and grips my hips tighter. “Mhmmm... define a lot,” I purr, leaning back, my head on his shoulder. “I wish we were at home,” he continues, nipping at the tip of my ear. “And why is that?” Tantalizing hand is exploring my abdomen, heading south and moving back to my hip not a second later. First prickles of arousal shoot down my spine.

“Because...” hands on my bottom, squeezing. _If he does not stop soon, I would be facing public humiliation again,_ I think idly. Before I know, he has hands back on my hips and nips at the tip of my ear again. “We would be already in some back room... I would relieve you of that _additional weight_ ,” he tugs at my robe, “and lick every inch of that perfect skin.” His hands slide underneath my robe to caress naked skin and I hold back a yelp. His mouth touches my neck and it's cold. He bites down and I yelp quietly, waves of pleasure travelling south.

He spins me around again and my cheeks are burning. I face him now and he is smiling suggestively, takes both my hands into his. That is a signal. I clench calf-muscles and lean my entire weight into the touch. In one fluid motion he throws me over his head. Flip. Land on my feet(tiptoes), back to him, hands spread like wings.

Tune runs through my veins like blood (and wine) and my body is sizzling with sensation. Turn to face Galion again. Hands are on my waist, turn, my back to Galion's chest again. I close my eyes again, leaning back.  The picture is in my head, I am all too aware of elves dancing around us, but that does not stop my skin from burning to be touched.

I grind against him gently (invisibly) and heard him gasp. They must be gasping too at the head table. In the public, how scandalous. “How do you like that?” I teased. His hands danced on the small of my back and lower. “Provocateur,” we breathed out simultaneously.

Suddenly I was spun around, his hands on the back of my thighs. I was flying for a blink of an eye, my legs up and Galion efficiently sweeping the floor with my hair. _This will not take long._

I am on my feet again, back to Galion, his left hand on my abdomen covered with mine. I bit my lip and hope that the effect of our “dancing” will not be as visible as it is obvious.

He grinds _into_ me and I moan, I cannot not help it, not with shocks of pleasure travelling down my spine. “See what you are doing to me?” he breathed against my cheek, “What will everyone say if they see great Elvenking acting like a common...?” Word _whore_ remained hanging in the sticky air around us. My hair is sticking to my neck in tangles and the silk of robe clings to my skin.

I gasp, loudly with Galion's hand on my nether regions. I tilt my head back, locked our gazes. “Don't I always act like that?”

His hand finds its way into my hair and pulls to reveal more of the neck. He inhales deeply, his breath sending shivers into my brain. I feel gazes on me and I hope that it is just a feeling. Song is nearing to its end.

I lock my arms around Galion's neck so he could spin me again. “Let us be out of here,” I said. I heard his chuckle, “I could not agree more, my lord.” We danced into the closing position and we both panted, my hair sweaty all over, sticking to my neck and face. I was sorry that the dance was over, though. I love it.

I inclined my head, “Wait for me inside.” He bowed, “Of course.” He turned and was gone. I swept myself out of the dance floor and tried not to think too much about what I look like. It was not so hard, considered the amount of wine I consumed.

At the head table I made my excuses (I believe I am getting very tired of the heat – a blatant lie) and disappeared as fast as I could. I do not doubt that at least half of the present did not fail to realize what was I about to do.

As soon as I entered relative shade of entrance hall, I found myself slammed against the wall. “I wanted to do this ever since I saw you drinking your first cup.” And before I could ask, what “this” actually was, his lips were crashed on mine in demanding kiss. He bit my lower lip and we both tasted slight tinge of blood. I opened my mouth, leaned into a kiss and tangled fingers in his hair. Moaned into his mouth and I felt his shivers. His fingers dug into my skin underneath the robe.

Suddenly he shoved me away roughly, eyes wide. I hit the wall and saw stars. It felt as if air around us could catch fire, my skin burned everywhere the robe was touching it. He opened the door to the small storeroom and pulled me in. In another second I was pushed (shoved) against the door, my leg hooked around his waist. No coaxing needed, he opened my robe and kissed exposed marked skin. Then bit it. Marks of the last action have not faded yet, but I was not in the state to care. Then he turned to my lips again and I succumbed to the feeling of his hot mouth on mine. He tugged on my hair and kissed and bit my neck, doubtlessly leaving more marks. “Let me help you, my lord,” he hissed and all but ripped my robe off me.   

You see, with Galion you do not make love. You fuck. Or more precisely, you get fucked. I doubt that he would ever let anyone into his body, maybe not even me. I never asked for it, though. I enjoyed his undivided attention as it was. No attachments, as he said and on my terms, as I lied to myself.  
I repeat. Lied.

The rest of my clothing and all of his melted away in no time and we were skin against skin. He did not give me time to wonder, what is wrong with me. There was a table in the storeroom and I somewhat expected I will end up against it. Not that I wanted to, but still better than floor or the wall. However, Galion so far showed no intention to move, I was still pinned against the door with my legs hooked around his waist. His cock was pressing against my entrance and I was getting needy. I moaned and grinded against him. I knew it would hurt. He steadied me, pressing my hips against the door, always in control. I bit my lip while he nipped on sensitive skin behind my ear. “Take me!” Command or not command, dry or not dry, I did not care, even though I was still a bit tender after our last session.

As he was about to spit into his palm, I swatted his hand away. “Allow me,” I sunk to my knees. Before I could, he grabbed my chin and turned my head up. “You are drunk, Thranduil.” He sunk to my level and after not so gentle push I was half lying, half sitting on the floor with him between my spread legs. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I do not really need to see this. I always kept my eyes shut.

Hand on my shoulder, pressing me down. I gave up with little resistance. My legs bent, Galion's hands on my knees. My legs thrown over his shoulders. I could not hold back whimper. He slammed into me without a single inch of preparation. I think I screamed and I saw stars explode behind my eyelids.

Galion can be trusted in one thing. He will fuck your wits out of you, that is for sure. His thrusts were fast and hard, every single one meeting my prostate. I had one hand clasped on my mouth and the other curled around me, holding myself, digging my fingernails into my shoulder.

I came forcefully, biting my palm, tasting my blood, mainly due to the fact that Galion finished himself inside me and a couple of moments later. He did not drop on the top of me, thankfully.

When he was out, lying about a foot away from me, I finally opened my eyes and stared into the ceiling. The come was cooling inside me.

I felt that Galion is looking at me. Then he sighed and pulled himself to the sitting position. “You are surprisingly likable, Thranduil, do you know that?” he asked as he pulled up his pants. I looked at him. “Is that bad?”   “Not at all.” He put on the rest of his clothes and stood up to leave.

He stopped at the door and turned to me. “Will I see you later? In your chamber, perhaps?”  
No. “Yes, you can come.” He smirked and left.

I stayed on the floor, alcohol slowly leaving my system. Floor was cold underneath my back.  
_Slut_. Why am I not wondering?

I stayed there quite a long time, naked and staring at the ceiling. On my own terms.   

        

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :)  
> Please tell me what you think :)


End file.
